Page 19 of A Duchess for his Family

“My friend,” Nathaniel spoke, “you know I delight in tormenting you, but even I must confess this is serious business.”

“I am aware.”

“No, you are responsible. That is not the same thing as aware.” Nathaniel tapped one finger upon the arm of his chair. “You are considering the girls. Good. You always do. You are considering propriety, duty, rank, household arrangements, and probably whether the west nursery receives sufficient sun after three o’clock.”

“It does not.”

“Naturally. But have you considered that Miss Norton may wish to be more than useful?”

Benedict’s answer failed him.

Outside the study, quick footsteps sounded in the corridor.

Nathaniel’s face brightened. “Speaking of storms approaching.”

The door burst open for the second time that afternoon, though this time Benedict found he minded far less.

“Uncle Nathaniel!” Marjorie cried, flying into the room as though fired from a cannon.

Amelia followed more carefully, though her smile was no less genuine. “Uncle Nathaniel, we did not know you had come.”

Nathaniel rose at once and opened his arms. “My beloved conspirators. I arrived in secrecy and splendor.”

Marjorie collided with him first. “We have something to show you.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“No,” Amelia replied.

“Yes,” Marjorie answered at the same time.

Benedict stood. “Marjorie.”

“It is not very dangerous.”

Nathaniel looked delighted. “My favorite degree.”

Amelia took his hand with quiet insistence. “It is only a drawing. Marjorie says it is a map.”

“It is a map,” Marjorie confirmed. “Of the garden. With all the best hiding places.”

“And the places Uncle Benedict must not know about,” Amelia added, then immediately looked guilty.

Benedict raised a brow. Marjorie gave her sister a betrayed look. “Amelia.”

Nathaniel laughed, bright and warm, filling the stern study with sound. “Come, then. I must inspect this treason at once.”

The twins each took one of his hands and began pulling him toward the door. Nathaniel allowed himself to be dragged with theatrical helplessness. At the threshold, he looked back at Benedict.

“We shall continue this later. I have not yet finished being appalled.”

“I shall endeavor to survive the anticipation.”

“Please do. And Benedict?” Nathaniel’s smile softened. “Don’t make a marriage only out of fear. Not even fear for those two.”

Before Benedict could answer, Marjorie tugged him away.

“Uncle Nathaniel, you are walking too slowly.”